


we'll have our pearl

by everytuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Charlie Bradbury Lives, Coming Out, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Road Trips, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 04:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17052764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everytuesday/pseuds/everytuesday
Summary: Cupid's spell is broken. Charlie's gaydar is not.





	we'll have our pearl

**Author's Note:**

> My logic here is that the spell keeping Mary & John together broke between both of them being dead/most of the angels getting wiped out.
> 
> Also I feel like cupid's arrow is a fun potential metaphor for comphet.

It starts like this:

Once upon a time, the princess ran away with a knight who saved her from the monsters. They had two beautiful children and a beautiful castle. Happily ever after.

No.

The princess fought off the monsters herself, saved the knight herself, and together they lived in a beautiful castle and had two children. Happy ever after.

No.

The princess fought the monsters and sold out her future children to save the knight. There was a castle and two children and then the princess died in flames.

No.

There is no princess. There is no knight. There is no happy ending. There is no _ending,_ only monsters and flames and death.

Mary Winchester died in flames.

Mary Winchester is reborn; 30 years into the future and her children are grown and her husband is dead and she’s not sad enough. She’s numb, angry, and lost, but she’s not the grief-stricken basket case she feels she's supposed to be.

She’s okay, she thinks. Maybe.

Dean, her sweet, babyfaced five year old  is just shy of 40 years old. A decade older than her. Every now and then she’ll see a glimpse of the child she knew, but she thinks she might be fooling herself. Wishing for now-Dean to match up to her-Dean.

She’d never known Sam as more than an infant, and now he’s a strange, distantly sad man. Closer in age to her than Dean, but still older than her by a few years.

John is dead. The numbness feels strongest there. They’d had a troubled marriage from the get-go, but _something_ had always kept them together. Now that he’s gone, that something feels gone too. The man she reads about in his writing might as well be a total stranger.

“Mom?”

Mary looks up from John’s journal, startled.

Dean slides the iPad across the table to her. Mary glances over it while Dean explains, “Charlie’s going on a hunt a couple hours away. Sam and I are already working a case, but Charlie wants back-up. You want in?”

Something about probable vetalas, string of murders. The usual. “Yeah, sure. Have I met Charlie?”

“She stops by every now and then. Redhead, geek lesbian type. Smart as hell, good hunter. You can trust her.”

“I’m in.”

~~~

Charlie has known Mary Winchester had come back for awhile now. She’s been waiting to meet her, but full of mixed and weird emotions about it. Her own parents are staying dead. She won’t get a second chance with them the way Sam and Dean get a second chance with their mom. They’re special and she’s not and she’s learned to accept that part of life as a friend to the Winchesters. Constant death and resurrections, but only as it impacts them. Everyone else just lives in the crosshairs.

When Mary Winchester steps down off the bus, Charlie is met with a rush of familiarity that goes way beyond family-of-friends. It’s more like--

No, that can’t be right.

Charlie brushes it off and moves forward to greet her.

“Mary, right?”

“You must be Charlie,” Mary shifts her bags to one arm and shakes Charlie's hand. “Sam and Dean have told me so much about you.”

“None of it’s true,” Charlie says quickly. “Especially the tattoo thing. They’ve never seen it and they can’t prove it exists.”

“They didn’t get around to telling me about that bit.”

Charlie lets out a relieved laugh.

“Do you have a motel set up?" Mary asks. "We should sit down somewhere and talk about the case.”

~~~

Talking the case goes quickly, so they skip out to the motel restaurant and get something to eat. And drink.

“Can I ask you something?” Mary asks, five beers in and a very candid and mouthy drunk. Charlie became endeared by her baby Sam&Dean stories, and even more endeared by her racy hunter stories from her own adolescence.

“Yeah, anything,” Charlie picks at her french fries. Her second and almost-empty vodka cranberry rests beside the basket.

“How did you know that you were gay?”

“Okay, Eighties,” Charlie laughs. She shouldn’t be this surprised. “So they didn’t tell you about my amazing tattoo but they told you I’m a lesbian?”

Mary shrugs and takes another swig of her beer.

“Um...  I don’t really know. Everyone says they always knew, and that’s kind of true, but I figured out the exact label when I was seventeen. I went and saw Attack of the Clones eight times in theaters even though I hated it and I didn’t realize why until round six, when I was sitting there watching Natalie Portman run around with a bare midriff and then it hit me hard like ‘oh god, I’m a lesbian.’ But I think it’s different for everyone. I hope it is, anyway. No one deserves to sit through Attack of the Clones eight times just to realize they’re gay.”

“Dean told me not to watch any new Star Wars movies.”

“I mean,  I do have lingering fondness for them despite everything. They’re not that bad. Okay, they totally are, but if you let Dean police your pop culture, you’ll never watch Gilmore Girls, and that’s a misogynistic hate crime.”

Mary laughs, warm and tipsy and Charlie grins into her glass. Maybe that first instinct wasn’t wrong.

~~~

The case closes. Two dead monsters later and Mary’s headed back to Kansas and Charlie feels a pang of sadness at the prospect of missing her new hunting partner.

“You know, you don’t have to go back,” Charlie says. “Come live the road life for a bit. Get a change of pace.”

“You want me to stick around?”

“I don’t mind doing it on my own, but I would’ve gotten my head bit off if it wasn’t for you, and since I like my head…” Charlie gestures to Mary. “And, if we’re honest, I liked working the case with you. You’re an amazing hunter.”

“Okay,” Mary raises her hands in defeat. “Flattery always wins, I'm in.”

“Really?”

“I could use some time away anyway. The cabin fever in the bunker is pretty intense.”

“Welcome to Team Bradbury.”

~~~ 

“Why do our FBI badges have the same last name?”

“What?” Charlie looks down at the freshly printed badge she'd made for Mary.  “Oh, shit. Forgot to change the last name when I made yours. I use the same photoshop file, just put in different info. I got most of it, at least?”

“So what do we say, we’re sisters?”

“Oh, no we look nothing alike,” Charlie shakes her head. “Wives, definitely.”

“Wives?”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Eighties. There are lesbian FBI agents. Anyway we can just let them assume whatever they want. Sisters, wives... Sister-wives when we're in Utah.” Charlie shrugs.

Mary nods, an expression on her face that Charlie can't quite place, but it almost looks like she's blushing.

~~~ 

They’ve got a 20 hour drive ahead of them to California. Charlie dozes off in the passenger seat from time to time while Mary fiddles with the radio.

“I can just put on a playlist,” Charlie offers, cracking an eye open after Mary swerves a little too hard. “Distracted driving kills four thousand people a year.”

“Okay,” Mary pulls her hand back. Charlie snags the aux cord and plugs her phone in.

She puts on a playlist without thinking about it until they’re four songs in, Jill Sobule starts crooning about kissing girls, and Charlie flushes despite herself. Which is stupid, because this is her car and her music and it’s the 21st century and if Mary wants to hate on that-- 

“I kissed my best friend in high school at a sleepover once,” Mary muses, so quietly Charlie isn't sure she heard her right,  or if she was even supposed to hear. 

Charlie struggles to keep a neutral expression but can’t stop her jaw from dropping.

“Nothing ‘serious,’” Mary continues, now at a normal volume. “I met John a couple years later and none of it seemed to matter.”

Charlie is silent for a long moment, unable to find something helpful to say. She wants to, desperately. But everything that comes to mind doesn’t capture the emotions and acceptance she wants to convey.  Too much time passes, the song changes, and they drift into silence. 

~~~ 

Their California case turned out to be a quick fix. Sleep. Investigate. Salt and Burn. The whole thing took less than a day. Neither of them are up for another long drive, so they hang around in town. Charlie pulls up tinder for the hell of it.

“What’s that?” Mary asks, peering over Charlie’s shoulder in their motel room.

“It’s a dating app. Swipe right if you like them, swipe left you don’t.”

“This is how lesbians meet each other?”

“Sometimes. Mostly it’s just couples wanting a threesome.” She adopts an obnoxious, whiny tone. “‘We’re an open minded couple looking to shake things up in the bedroom. Will you be our unicorn? Women only.’” Her voice loses the effect. “Because men are cowards and these apps hate me personally.” 

“You know, there was this couple in our  first neighborhood when Dean was little. Most people thought the husband was sleeping with the babysitter, but then they caught the _wife_ with the babysitter. Everyone thought he’d be lose it, but they seemed to work it out. And they still kept that babysitter. So there were always rumors about some _ménage à trois_ going on. But I feel like that wouldn’t be a scandal now, really. People are so open. Maybe too open?” 

“It’s better than the alternative, even if it is annoying sometimes,” Charlie shrugs. “Anyway, all the lesbians here want long-term relationships. Which, same, but not something I can do right now.”

She tosses the phone on her bed and leans back in the creaky motel desk chair.

“I don’t know if I want to go through ‘dating’ again,” Mary says. “I feel so old. And I’m not, I’m barely 30. But men now are--”

“Men _always_.” 

Charlie feels a warmth spread through her as Mary laughs.

 ~~~ 

They’re driving back to Kansas again, Charlie still in the passenger seat. Sam and Dean want help with a ritual and they’re the closest hunters who can drop everything and go. 

“I read those books, you know,” Mary says. “Cas gave them to me, even though I don’t think the boys wanted me to see them.”

“Yeah?” Charlie glanced over, trying to think of any of the hundred things Mary could have read in the Carver Edlund novels.

“John and I weren’t together because we wanted to be, it was because angels set us up.”

Ah. _That._  

“I never had a choice,” Mary say. “It makes so much sense now. They were right, we couldn’t stand each other at first. And then it was like we couldn’t _not_ be together, like everything drew us in. We compromised more than either of us ever imagined we would to make it work. And even then it didn’t really _work_.”

“That must make it hard to grieve,” Charlie says.

“I don’t know how to feel sad when I just  feel like I escaped something,” Mary shrugs. “I missed him, at first. And as it's settled, I don’t anymore. For the first time in my life, I have choices and I know I wouldn’t have chosen John, not if I--I love my boys, but I wouldn’t choose any of the life I had before. I wanted out, but I didn’t want-- I wouldn’t have chosen--” Mary keeps stopping herself, struggling for the words.

Charlie doesn’t want to jump on Mary, but she’s not sure if she’ll ever get there on her own. “You wouldn’t choose men.”

Mary brakes _hard,_ flinging Charlie forward in her seat. The car screeches as it slides to a stop on the shoulder of the road. Acrid burned rubber smell fills the car. Charlie gasps, whipping around toward Mary, wanting go confirm she's alright. Mary’s knuckles go white against her grip on the wheel. 

“Mary,” Charlie says, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Hey, you’re okay.” 

“No,” Mary shakes her head. “No, I’m not--”

Charlie grabs Mary’s shoulder. “You’re fine. Look at me." 

Mary looks over, eyes wild. “I didn’t love him.”

“No,” Charlie murmurs. Mary looks crushed, gaze dropping to her lap. 

“I didn’t love because-- because I’m--” she can’t say it. 

“Because,” Charlie says, carefully, meaningfully, “you don’t love men. You love women.” 

Mary’s hands drop from the wheel to her lap. Her hair falls into her face and she slumps down in her seat. 

Charlie swings open her door and goes around the car to the driver's side, crouching beside her. “Mary. Look at me.”

Mary undoes her seatbelt with shaking hands and grabs onto Charlie as she gets out of the car. Charlie hangs onto her. Her breath is shallow, body coiled tight with tension; Mary’s so _scared._  

Charlie brushes Mary’s hair back from her face. “You’re fine.” 

Mary catches Charlie’s hand in hers, keeping it in place. “Thank you.” 

Charlie hesitates, but Mary doesn’t. She pulls Charlie around to her, bringing their lips together. Mary tastes like gunpowder and sweet tea and Charlie breathes her in, takes Mary’s face in her hands, and pulls her tighter against her. 

Mary clutches Charlie’s jacket, fabric pulling taught against Charlie’s shoulders. Her small frame is shaking, but she deepens the kiss, tongue brushing up against Charlie’s lips. Charlie opens her mouth, letting out a tiny gasp as Mary continues to kiss her and push Charlie back up against the car. Charlie’s hands run through Mary’s hair, totally, completely caught up in her. 

When Mary pulls away, she’s crying. 

~~~ 

Charlie drives.

Mary’s at the motel, taking a much-needed rest, and after 10 minutes of feeling like a creep for watching her sleep, Charlie left a note, took the keys and drove.

She drives in circles around the town, trying to sort out her own emotions. 

Mary isn’t the first woman she’s helped figure out her sexuality. Even just since she’s started hunting, there have been repressed housewives and cute school teachers and the odd grad student writing her senior thesis on sexuality while not even understanding her own...

Mary is different, though. Mary isn’t just someone she can hook-up with once and slip out of town. It’s not even because she’s a Winchester, or a fellow hunter. Charlie wants to make sure she’s okay beyond the “oh I’m gay” realization. She wants Mary to fall in love and have a new life and go to pride parades and wear dykey flannel and maybe get an undercut someday.

She shouldn’t feel obligated to do that with Charlie. God, it’s so hard to separate her feelings from this whole thing. Mary is amazing and sharp and warm and _perfect_ but that doesn’t mean Charlie has the right to take advantage of someone so new to figuring themselves out. It’s always tempting to run into the arms of the first gay woman you have a friendship with. Charlie did it, loads of other lesbians do it, but that doesn't make it a great idea.

“Man up, Bradbury,” Charlie mutters to herself.

Charlie pulls back into the hotel and steps inside their room. Mary curls up on the sofa, hair pulled back and wrapped in a blanket. Her laptop screen glows softly in the darkness, and between the  laugh track and Jennifer Aniston's voice, Charlie guesses Mary’s resumed her Friends binge watch. 

“Hey,” Charlie says. “How ya feeling?”

Mary shuts her laptop and looks up. “Better now. Things are clearer. It’s terrifying, but it makes sense.”

“Well, you’re in great hands,” Charlie says. “Trust me. I will wingman you so hard. We’ll take hunts exclusively in cities with lesbian bars. You’re going to have the best coming out party I can possibly give you. Girls everywhere.”

“Wingman me?” Mary asks.

“I’m honored to be part of your lesbian awakening, really, I am. But I don’t want to make things weird. You deserve to be someone you really like, not just the first lesbo that wanders into your path.”

“Charlie,” Mary gets up, stepping toward her. “I kissed you because I really like _you_ . And I’ve already had my first lesbian kiss, back in high school, remember? This is new to me, but I know what I want. I know _who_ I want.”

“Me?” Charlie’s voice goes up an octave higher than is dignified.

Mary is inches away from her now. She puts her arms around Charlie, forearms resting on her shoulders. “You.”

~~~

It goes like this.

There's no knight and there's no princess.

But there is an open road, and somewhere along it, two women hold hands as they set off to fight the monsters.

**Author's Note:**

> I have part of a potential follow up chapter with Sam and Dean finding out, but I'm not sure I'll finish it.


End file.
